


we spread and drown forever

by witching



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bastards in Love, Complicated Relationships, Desk Sex, Hair-pulling, Kissing, M/M, Makeup Sex, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 03, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Lukas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: He looks fantastic, of course, and Peter hates him for it almost more than he hates him for the argument that's kept them from seeing each other for months. Peter doesn't want to think about it at the moment, so he pushes it to the back of his mind rather than dwell on the details. Elias knows the details, he's certain of that, and he's about to remind him any second now just to be a smug bastard. Peter can just tell that he's going to do it.Which, naturally, is probably why he doesn't do it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	we spread and drown forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercuryhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/gifts).



_and now there is no point of view—_  
_and now there is no other—_  
_we spread and drown as lilies do—_  
_we spread and drown forever._

_you are my tongue, you are my eye,_  
_my coming and my going._  
_o g-d, you let your sailor die_  
_so he could be the ocean._

— leonard cohen, _'drank a lot'_

* * *

"Mr Lukas," says Elias, his tone dripping in false geniality and cordial detachment, "do come in."

"...Bouchard," Peter deadpans, stepping into the office and taking a seat across from Elias.

He looks fantastic, of course, and Peter hates him for it almost more than he hates him for the argument that's kept them from seeing each other for months. Peter doesn't want to think about it at the moment, so he pushes it to the back of his mind rather than dwell on the details. Elias knows the details, he's certain of that, and he's about to remind him any second now just to be a smug bastard. Peter can just tell that he's going to do it.

Which, naturally, is probably why he doesn't do it. Instead, he sits back in his chair, steeples his fingers in front of his face, sighs as if he's bored already. 

"I believe we have some financial matters to discuss?" he says, curt and professional, his face a smooth, emotionless expanse.

Peter blinks at him. It's rare that he plays this particular game. "Yes, we do," Peter says in a clipped tone. "I assume you have the papers for me to look over?" He speaks with a cold sort of defiance, an attitude that says he knows Elias doesn't have the papers and he's not patient enough to play out the whole charade.

"Dear me," Elias says unconvincingly, as if reading from a script, "I must have forgotten to get them copied. Let me grab those for you."

"Don't bother," Peter mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes in irritation.

Elias arches an eyebrow at him, elegant and dry. "No? Why not?"

"I don't want to talk about the money," hisses Peter, voice full of vitriolic acid. "I'll give you whatever you need, as always, and you know it. You can sign my name on the documents yourself."

"I can't imagine why you would come all the way down here for a budget meeting if you didn't want to discuss budgets," says Elias.

Peter stares blankly at him for a long moment, the air between them charged with a dozen different flavors of tension. His hands are gripping his own thighs, white-knuckled with the effort of holding back a snappy retort. "I really didn't want to come," he grumbles discontentedly, "but someone in the family has to do it, and it's not as if they particularly care how I feel about it."

Giving him a faux sympathetic smile, Elias nods his head. "Yes, of course. My apologies, then, that you have to undertake this arduous burden. How will I ever make it worth your time?"

It's bait. Peter knows it's bait. He knows that Elias is dangling hope in front of him in an attempt to make a fool of him, or at the very least to make him show his belly, to make him feel vulnerable. He doesn't want to make it up to Peter, he just wants to make Peter ask him for something so that he can pull it away from him at the last second. 

Of course, knowing all of that doesn't stop Peter from falling for it. He is, at his core, a weak and selfish man. "You could start by offering me a fair wager," he huffs under his breath, finally bringing attention to the elephant in the room, the source of the cold shoulder he's been giving. The stakes on this one are high, and Elias waited until Peter had agreed to it before dropping a rather significant caveat, and Peter felt so cheated by it that he's spent the months since then freezing Elias out entirely. 

"Come now," Elias says with a bit of a sympathetic pout, only Elias doesn't do sympathy, and Peter can see the expression for the mockery it is. "Believe me, I understand how ideal Jon would be for your purposes, but if I didn't think there were other options for you, then I wouldn't have offered the bet at all."

"You led me on," hisses Peter. "You knew I had my eye on him, he _reeks_ of loneliness, and you let me get invested in him only to find out that you had _dibs._ It's not fair."

"I'm sorry, Peter, but it simply isn't feasible for anyone else to fill his role in my plans," Elias tells him in that infuriatingly diplomatic tone, like a human resources manager on steroids. "Have you considered Martin? He has a great deal of potential, and let's just say I feel fairly confident that however the Unknowing plays out, it will leave him lonelier than ever."

He levels a cool look at Peter, an eyebrow raised, but Peter doesn't give him the satisfaction of giving in so easily. Elias catches wind of his disbelieving glare, takes a deep breath, and rolls his eyes. "Fine. If I'm wrong about this, I'll give you an out," he concedes with an air of exasperation. "After I'm gone, if you look at the situation and don't like your odds, we call the whole thing off, no questions asked."

Still suspicious, Peter makes him wait a long time for a response. He weighs his options at length, the pros and cons of capitulating to the terms, the risk versus the reward. Eventually, he arrives at the conclusion that while he may not entirely believe Elias, he's more tired of being in a fight than anything else, not to mention that a few months apart have put him in a headspace where he's finding it difficult to ignore the way looking at Elias makes his gut swirl pleasantly.

"Alright," he declares, meeting Elias's gaze with a blooming heat in his eyes. "I accept your terms, on the condition that we seal the deal with a kiss."

"You old charmer," Elias murmurs, his lips quirking up into a small, satisfied smile. 

He stands from his chair and circles the desk with silent steps, stopping right before Peter and hauling him up to his full height with a hand on his tie. He's stronger than he looks, Elias is, and the vivid reminder knocks the wind from Peter's lungs for a moment. He doesn't have time to recover from that before Elias is kissing him, hands fisted tight in the fabric of his shirt, standing up on his toes and pressing into Peter's mouth with a singular heat.

The kiss turns dirty fast, Peter's hands migrating to the small of Elias's back as he opens his mouth to let Elias suck his tongue wantonly. Elias takes the opportunity of Peter's distraction to take his deft fingers to Peter's collar and undoing several buttons. Groaning against his lips, Peter untucks Elias's shirt and slips one hand underneath to press warm into his skin while the other slides down to grab his ass, giving him an appreciative squeeze. Elias responds by sliding Peter's shirt off his shoulders and throwing it to the side, nipping at his lower lip.

Peter forgets himself a bit, gets lost in the feel of Elias's skin under his hands and Elias's hands on his skin and Elias's lips on his lips, until Elias decides to escalate things. He lifts his leg, hooks his knee around Peter's thigh as if attempting to climb him, and Peter's knees buckle, forcing him to grip the desk to brace himself.

"How's that for a binding agreement?" Elias murmurs, not bothering to pull away from Peter's lips.

"Shut up and take your clothes off," Peter growls under his breath. He doesn't give Elias the opportunity to say anything snarky in reply, choosing instead to take matters into his own hands, popping the button of Elias's trousers and lowering the zipper, his other hand pulling Elias in close. "How are we going to do this, then?"

"Shut up and take your clothes off," says Elias, a smug mockery of Peter's statement, as he removes his own slacks and shirt. He sits back in his chair, reaching in the opening of his trunks to pull out his equipment. 

Peter does as he's told, grumbling about it the whole time, and finally turns to face Elias again, struggling to restrain a laugh. It comes out as a small huff of breath, accompanied by a fond shake of his head. Elias fists his hand loosely around his cock and strokes it a few times, smiling up at Peter with a look in his eyes begging him to say something. Peter wants to say something, because the thing is, it's pink. Not the human pink of Elias's skin, but a bright fuschia that Peter recognizes from previous encounters. 

He just didn't expect that Elias would have it here and now, not when he's seen Elias's whole collection and knows how many of his pieces are more comfortable, more discreet, more realistic. This one is one of Peter's favorites, though, and Elias knows it. It fits snugly over Elias's cock and provides a wonderful suction, ribbed inside and out, and it's given both of them some rousing orgasms before. It's a bit reassuring, the reminder that Elias knew how this meeting would end, because of course he did, and he prepared accordingly, prepared specifically what he knew Peter would appreciate.

"It's not as if many people are looking, dear," Elias teases warmly, taking in Peter's slack jaw with a wicked gleam in his narrowed eyes. "Apart from you, that is. Now, what are we going to do about it?"

Shaking his head, unthinking, Peter crosses to the other side of the desk, drops to his knees and leans full-bodied against Elias, resting his cheek against a bare thigh, his mouth tantalizingly close to where he wants it. He looks up at Elias with wide, pleading eyes, wrapping his hands around Elias's slender calves, and Elias begins to card his fingers through Peter's hair, deceptively gentle.

"You are such a sweet thing, aren't you?" he murmurs as Peter closes his eyes and leans into his touch. "So good for me."

Peter makes a small disgruntled sound, undermined considerably by his face nuzzling into Elias's thigh, the tension leaving his shoulders as Elias continues to pet his hair. Elias coos at him, all smug and proud, and tightens his fingers in Peter's hair, tugs experimentally. When Peter relaxes further, he pulls harder, and when Peter practically melts under his touch, he offers up more soft snippets of praise, which in turn make Peter bristle. 

It's a delicate line to walk, and Peter can see the game Elias is playing, but he's not put off by it enough to actually protest. Nevertheless, one of his quiet grunts of contempt grabs Elias's attention eventually, making him fist his fingers tight in Peter's hair and yank his head back to guide his face upwards.

"If you're going to have an attitude," he hisses dangerously, "we can adjourn this meeting right now." He pauses, stares Peter down until he shakes his head minutely, and then continues in a markedly brighter tone, "That's what I thought. Now, would you like to suck my cock?" 

"I think _you'd_ like that," Peter says, his voice low and rough, "and I could be persuaded of a giving mood, with the right incentive."

Elias smiles, breathes a sigh of satisfaction and releases Peter's hair. "Incentive, Peter? I'm going to fuck you over this desk—which, if you'll recall, is genuine purpleheart wood, manufactured in 1848. Is that not incentive enough?"

Casting a glance toward the desk in question, Peter huffs out a frustrated breath. "That desk, if _you'll_ recall, cost me upwards of ten thousand pounds."

His reward is the touch of Elias's foot against the inside of his thigh, nudging his knees apart gently, and two fingers tucked under his chin, guiding his face up. "I suppose we'll just have to be careful, then," Elias says, voice sickly sweet and dripping with faux affability. "And if anything happens to it, you'll just have to buy another, won't you?"

Peter rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue it further, more interested in getting down to business. He leans forward to bring his mouth level with the cock in front of him, looking up to Elias not for approval, but for a moment of recognition before he opens his mouth. He sticks his tongue out, takes the cock all the way to the base, relaxing his throat and bobbing up and down, pressing the base against Elias's pelvis to stimulate the suction and make him moan. He gets sloppy with it, spit dribbling from his lips as he moans around the shaft.

Losing a bit of his composure, Elias slides a hand into Peter's hair, breathes a shaky sigh. When Peter opens his eyes and glances up at his face, Elias is watching him with a warm sort of reverence, eyes sparkling and lips parted. It's incredibly sexy, much as Peter is loath to admit it, knowing how much Elias loves to look on.

Beholding types are all the same, he thinks, and it's disgusting, but somehow arousing at the same time. Peter feels a rush of heat between his legs and lets out a rough moan low in his throat, rubbing his thighs together surreptitiously.

Apparently not surreptitiously enough, because Elias grabs him by the hair again and pulls his head back, first removing the shaft from his throat, then letting it slide over his tongue and glance across his lips. Peter keeps his mouth open, jaw slack and tongue lolling out as he looks up with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Stand for me," Elias requests softly, and Peter complies without hesitation. 

Elias rises from his chair to join him, standing close enough that their chests are nearly touching, and his hands begin to explore Peter's body. One hand pets idly at his chest, all flushed skin and thick hair, while the other moves down between Peter's legs, two fingers rubbing over his cock with a light touch and making him gasp. Elias lets his eyes rove around Peter's body, stroking his skin and dropping light kisses all over his neck and shoulders as he works Peter up into a veritable state. 

Uncomfortable with the attention but unwilling to give it up, Peter tenses under his touch and his gaze. Elias brushes the pad of his thumb over Peter's nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak, and chuckles under his breath when Peter's knees begin to tremble with the effort of holding himself upright. 

Taking a small step back, Elias gestures toward the desk. "Come on, then," he says with a playful tilt of his head, "let's get down to it."

Peter shakes his head in fond exasperation, but moves nonetheless to drape his body over the desk, resting his chin on his folded forearms and spreading his legs dutifully. "You know, you're very demanding for someone who relies on my good will for his financial stability," he drawls. Barely humming an acknowledgment, Elias fiddles around in a drawer for a minute, leaving Peter cold and lonely, and he doesn't want to think about why that isn't as comforting a notion as it should be. "I'm just saying," he continues as if unaware that Elias is trying to ignore him, "you might try to be a bit more polite. I didn't make the trip down to your little institute so that you could condescend to me."

"Right, of course," Elias replies amicably, "because I'm sure you would rather not be here, is that right? You would rather go home, and us not speak for another three months?" 

Beneath his voice, Peter hears the click of a cap and the wet sound of Elias slicking up his fingers, and he unconsciously thrusts his ass in the air a bit. "I didn't say that, Elias," Peter answers with a long-suffering sigh. "Don't start again, not when we've just..." 

He trails off with a choked sort of groan as Elias dips two fingers between his legs. "When we've just made up?" Elias suggests, the smugness in his tone practically palpable in the air.

"Now, I wouldn't go that far," Peter says, still sort of breathless.

"Wouldn't you?" asks Elias as he circles a lubed fingertip idly around Peter's entrance. "I don't fuck just anyone who comes into my office with a bad attitude. I tend to reserve that privilege for..." He pauses, huffs out a quiet laugh to himself, and pushes his finger inside at a truly torturous pace before finishing: _"Special_ individuals."

"Fine, what do you want me to say?" Peter snaps at him, his ire undermined considerably by the way he clenches and pushes back against Elias's hand. "You know how I feel. Don't think I'm done being angry with you, just because you've—"

"Got my fingers inside you?" Elias mocks, emphasizing his point by slotting another finger in next to the first, pressing them in deep and rubbing hard up against a spot he knows how to find on sensory memory alone. 

Peter tenses, inhales sharply through his nose, and releases a long, shaky exhale. "Yes, that."

As if in retaliation, Elias twists his fingers inside Peter's hole, drives them in deeper, harder, and revels in the punched-out noise it forces up out of Peter's chest. He brings his free hand up to rest on the small of Peter's back, pressing down with a reassuring weight as he fucks him open on his fingers, hardly making a sound. Still, Peter can hear the smug satisfaction in his _breaths_ when Elias manages to wring a particularly good reaction from him.

Eventually, he tires of waiting, groans and pushes back against Elias's fingers. "Are you planning to actually fuck me anytime soon?" he asks petulantly. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Talk about demanding," Elias mutters under his breath, but he takes his shaft in hand at the same time. He brushes the head teasingly over Peter's entrance, not quite slipping inside, moving lower every few moments to rub the tip up against Peter's dick.

Peter grits his teeth in frustration. "Elias, I'm not going to just sit here and let you toy with me. You do enough of that in every single other area of life."

Pausing with the head of his cock positioned just at Peter's entrance, Elias gives him a thoughtful hum. "You used to love it when I toyed with you in the bedroom," he muses.

Whatever retort Peter wishes to spit back at him is cut off when Elias pushes into him, slowly but unexpectedly. Peter takes the time to adjust until Elias is seated fully inside him, grinding his hips against Peter's ass to stimulate the suction on his own cock. When he's had time to adjust to the feeling of fullness, and when he tires of letting Elias have his fun, Peter wiggles his hips a bit to entice him to move, to fuck him properly. Elias responds by putting his hands on Peter's hips, stilling him and chuckling softly to himself.

Irritated and impatient, Peter huffs at him. "Yes, perhaps I can appreciate it at certain times, but right now I'm not very happy with you, and your games are not amusing."

"I wasn't quite aiming for amusing," Elias replies.

"Fine, then. It's not appealing in any way. It's just annoying."

"And how do you know _that_ isn't my intention?"

"Because, Elias," Peter sighs wearily, "if you didn't want to actually fuck me, then you'd have found a much simpler way to be a nuisance."

Pulling his hips back, Elias continues conversing in a steady, amiable tone. "Alright, I'll give you that," he concedes. 

Peter doesn't have the chance to respond, because Elias follows up his statement with a sharp snap of his hips. He thrusts lazily in and out a few times while Peter catches his breath and searches for a comeback—to what, he doesn't know, because Elias has just agreed with him and given him what he's been asking for.

Instead of being argumentative, Peter finds himself focusing on the sensations of Elias driving into him without reservation, all of his bravado melting away now that he's really in the moment. Elias isn't saying anything, blessedly, only letting out soft grunts and groans as he fucks into Peter hard and fast.

Each time he bottoms out, Elias presses his hips closer, pushes harder and deeper into Peter. The gesture serves the dual purpose of brushing the ridged head of the cock against a sensitive spot deep inside Peter and increasing suction on Elias's dick from the internal shaft. Peter closes his eyes, bites his lower lip, and pushes back against the cock pounding into him, gradually approaching the peak of pleasure.

At a particularly powerful thrust, Peter lets out a thin, reedy moan, clenching down around the shaft, and Elias leans over him, drapes himself across Peter's back and whispers, so close that his lips brush the shell of his ear as he speaks. "Does that feel good, darling? Tell me."

"Fucking hell, Elias," Peter mumbles disdainfully, "your ego never sleeps, does it? You can't just fuck me, no, you've got to fish for bloody compliments."

"Forgive me," says Elias, the smile audible in his voice. "I just like to hear your voice, you see. It's such a singularly erotic experience when you talk to me without all that bluster and put on attitude. You could try being sincere for once in your life, dear, that's all."

Peter rolls his eyes and heaves a deep sigh of irritation, wavering slightly as Elias continues to thrust his hips shallowly. "Right, of course," he snaps, "sincerity is what you look for in your dirty talk, you filthy voyeur. You want me to open up to you."

With a cruel snap of his hips, Elias manages to punch all the breath from Peter's lungs, squeezing the meat of his hips with neatly groomed fingernails, driving deep into him. "You seem plenty open for me already, Peter," he drawls pleasantly. "I'm merely trying to make conversation, and I think I'm entitled to it, considering how well I'm fucking you to pieces."

"How am I meant to carry— _fuck_ —a conversation," Peter grinds out through his teeth, "when you're doing that?"

"You always have a complaint, don't you?" Elias asks, his voice strained with effort and laced with irritation but ultimately breezy and fond. "All I ask is that you actually _speak_ to me while we make love, and you simply _have_ to find something wrong with that."

"We are not. _Making love,"_ Peter sneers, disgust and contempt dripping from his words. "Just—yes, right there, do that again, fuck."

To his credit, Elias does repeat the movement, hitting the same sensitive spot again. Peter shifts his hips slightly, pushing back against him and making room to insinuate his own hand between himself and the desk, moaning when his fingers make contact with his cock. Elias hums in satisfaction when he sees Peter's hand working furiously between his legs to bring himself over the edge.

He doubles down on his own efforts as well, letting out soft noises of pleasure as he fucks into Peter with renewed vigor. Peter can tell he's close when his breaths start coming quicker, short little gasps that are very unbecoming of a man of his reputation, and his hips stutter and stall with every few thrusts. He can't be sure, because he's never been on the other side of this particular piece, but Peter thinks that his clenching down might have a stimulating effect on the internal shaft around Elias's cock. It's that, or coincidence, or just that the sound of Peter's orgasm pushes Elias over the edge as well, because they come within seconds of each other.

Peter stills his hand, his dick caught between two fingers, and lets out a choked groan as he crests the wave. Elias pushes inside him as deep as he can go, grinds his pelvis hard against Peter's ass, and tightens his grip on Peter's hips when he comes with a long sigh of pleasure. When they both come down from the aftershocks, Elias is pressed up against Peter's back, skin on warm skin, and peppering gentle kisses along his back and shoulders.

"Alright, dove?" he murmurs in Peter's ear, sweet and soft and satisfied.

"Yes," Peter grunts curtly, ignoring the endearment and reaching behind himself to grab Elias's slender wrist.

Elias allows Peter to hold his one hand while he places the other on the center of Peter's back and begins to ease the shaft of the cock out of him. Peter's hole clutches around it, trying to hold on, but Elias pulls out, slow and steady, leaving him empty.

When Elias takes a step back, Peter stands up and rolls his shoulders back to work out some of the stiffness from being bent over the desk. Elias looks him up and down, his wrist still held firmly in Peter's grip, and gives him a smug little smile. "Are we happy, dear? Anything else you need from me?"

Rolling his eyes, Peter scoffs quietly and pulls Elias in close, pressing his free hand into the small of his back and reeling him in until they're pressed chest-to-chest. He doesn't take the time to say anything in reply before dipping low to capture Elias in a kiss. He licks past Elias's lips, sliding their tongues together with long, languid strokes, and Elias melts against him, sighing into his mouth.

Elias pulls away from the kiss first, his palm cupping Peter's cheek as he looks up at him with a fond sort of curiosity. It takes a moment for Peter to catch up, to open his eyes and meet Elias's gaze, and frown back at him. Reading the confusion in Peter's expression, Elias shakes his head. 

"You're quite lovely sometimes," he says by way of explanation.

"Sure," Peter replies sardonically, punctuating it with a half-snort and a hand running through his hair. "You're only saying that because you know it pisses me off."

"I resent the implication," Elias says, voice full of faux scandal, but the grin slowly spreading across his face gives him away. "It's been far too long, Peter, I'm only trying to make up for lost time. It would simply devastate me to think that you don't understand how much I care for you." He begins walking two fingers up the plane of Peter's chest, eyes sliding along in their wake until his hand comes to rest on the side of Peter's neck, his gaze fixed on Peter's narrowed eyes. "I've missed you, you know."

"I know," Peter grunts, and then leans in to kiss him again.

The kiss is good, and effectively squelches the confession he knows is on the tip of Elias's tongue. He doesn't want to hear it. He is rather having a nice time here with Elias, irritation notwithstanding, and he would rather it not be completely ruined by Elias and his incessant desire to be a smug bastard. So Peter will kiss him for a while, hopefully long enough that he forgets what he was going to say, and then he'll get dressed and make his escape before Elias gets the chance to say it, and he'll be spared for another day. He'll go home and be alone and try to remind himself of all the reasons he truly hates Elias Bouchard, and maybe tomorrow he'll let Elias tell him he loves him, and then it'll all be over. He'll be done for as soon as those words leave Elias's lips, and he's alright with that.


End file.
